


close your eyes and dream, the pain will fade

by angelcult



Series: noncontober [2]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Biting, Coming Untouched, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Painful Sex, Rimming, Sleepy Sex, Teratophilia, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/angelcult
Summary: The Beast is always privy to Wirt, but he’s never seen him sleeping so heavily.. and so vulnerable.
Relationships: The Beast/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Series: noncontober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947919
Comments: 2
Kudos: 105





	close your eyes and dream, the pain will fade

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess it WONT only be Billdip

The gentle whispers of wind through low-hanging branches, leaves scattering along the dirt path into an open meadow where a boy lay beneath an edelwood tree. 

His chest rises and falls slowly, the rhythmic motions of a peaceful and deep sleep. He seems untouched by the world around him, the length of his rest unknown, much like many things in that  _ place. _

Deep within the shadows, two eyes like spotlights watched the boy, more of a  _ man,  _ really, having grown into his once lanky frame a little more, but still so small and weak when compared to the creature. 

A lit lantern hung above his head on one of the tree branches as he slept.

_ What does a cursed child dream of,  _ The Beast wondered as he watched him huff through his nose, the tips of his fingers twitching.

As he watched, the roots of the tree he laid under slowly began to crawl towards him, able to go into the light whilst The Beast himself was unable to, watching his little lanternbearer sleep, none the wiser to his advances.

One of the roots curled around his ankle, crawling up it like a snake. Wirt’s brow furrowed, and he hummed softly but didn’t wake. 

How taken he is by this little human, the one that mutters poetry under his breath as he cuts down the trees, luring souls in with his singing voice and his soft eyes.

If they’d been careful, those poor souls would have seen the way his eyes reflected light so inhumanly, the way his ax was stained the color of rust, and how his lantern’s light never flickered.

_ If only.  _

His roots had taken a mind of their own while his mind had wandered, and they were feeling beneath Wirt’s shirt and cloak, curling around his neck and limbs.

He’s moving more now, making cute, snuffled noises of discontent. His red, button nose twitches, the sun starts to set along the horizon. 

Eyes once brown blink open, now they’re the color of oily rainbows. Hazy with sleep, his head tilts only to have the roots tighten around and squeeze, The Beast can feel his pulse quicken through them.

He shifts, testing his now limited range of motion, and he’s still tired, his limbs are slow to react, the dark circles beneath his eyes more prominent against his eyes and long lashes. 

“B-Beast?” He gets the word out, eyes flickering to the shadows where two beacon eyes watch him weakly squirm, but fatigue is weighing on his weak body, being stuck in The Unknown, it hasn’t treated him well. 

“Shh.. sleep, child..” A soothing voice, the root around his throat loosens and his head lulls back against the soft grass, red lips parted as he inhaled sharply.

His eyes fell closed without a fight, and The Beast allowed himself to slowly pry the boy’s clothes away with his roots, watching the sun as it dipped behind the horizon, light seeping away to make room for darkness. 

Soon, the light had been completely leached away by the moon, and The Beast stepped out of the shade, and he leaned down over the boy, his roots sliding to his wrists and ankles.

His skin is pale, soft, slightly translucent from a weak appetite and fatigue, it’s almost like he’s dead.

Clawed hands slowly stroke smooth skin, large, both of them engulf his waist, he’s pliant in sleep, when he lifts him up by his hips, his back curls beautifully with the lack of tension and resistance.

A rag doll left to a curious attack dog. 

The Beast explores his little human, careful of long nails that could separate flesh from bone, and then, The Beast bends down and kisses his concave stomach, sharp teeth nipping and a long tongue tasting flesh.

Wirt tastes of desperation and defeat, kisses trailing down to his soft sex, careful with such a sensitive and important part of his tiny human.

The Beast’s hands slide down his thighs and he bites at his hip, breaks skin and laps at the blood that bubbles to the surface, tasting his  _ life  _ and  _ vulnerability.  _

The boy makes a noise beneath him, a whimper, caught between a broken moan. 

The Beast’s eyes flick up and Wirt is starting to squirm again, muttering the word  _ “no”  _ under his breath, shifting to get away but he’s been pinned, and they both know it.

A rag doll ready to be ripped to shreds. 

The Beast sucks at the bite, blood smearing Wirt’s skin as he sleepy tries to fight him off with twists of his hips and The Beast tightens his grip, it hurts,  _ he’s going to break something— _

A moan is startled out of Wirt, something wet prodding where it shouldn’t, something wet and hot  _ sliding inside of him, deep, too deep- _

His whimpers are loud and now his hips are moving against his will, body taking control for his sleep-addled mind, and he moans when that tongue pushes in  _ deeper  _ and how fucking long is it?

The slick wet noises make his face flush red, and he yanks at the restraints, though. he doubts he even needs them, his body is weak and fatigued.

A flick of the tongue, deep enough to press a bulge in his stomach and he wants to  _ cry,  _ it’s so much,  _ so much.  _

He’s sensitive with time, years of going without touch (even his own), it’s enough to make him cum even though it hurts, in an achy, “too deep” way.

The intrusion recedes and Wirt lets out a sigh of relief, shuddering when a hot mouth cleans the mess from his stomach.

The entire exchange is mostly wordless, Wirt is redressed with clawed hands, and his hair is soothed back.

He’s so tired, he can’t even complain about how much he hadn’t wanted it, about how the orgasm has felt so good yet hurt so much. 

The lantern flickers above him, it’s light everlasting and a constant in his life now, burning from the souls of his brother and so many others who had fallen to the Unknown, to The Beast, to  _ him. _

His eyes fell closed, he’s exhausted, he has more souls to harvest, the lantern’s flame can’t go out and.. maybe if he falls asleep, he’ll slip so deep in that he won’t feel The Beast if his claws and mouth wander again. 


End file.
